


Hero Complex

by TheJediCode



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Episode VIII Spoilers, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hero Complex, Praise Kink, Reader-Interactive, Smut, Star Wars: The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 02:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13067586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJediCode/pseuds/TheJediCode
Summary: You and Poe Dameron have an arrangement.  This time, though, he has a specific request.(Mild Spoilers for The Last Jedi)





	Hero Complex

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am here to shamelessly take advantage of Poe Dameron's Episode VIII hero complex.

You weren’t his girlfriend.  That would have implied some kind of romantic attachment.  Lover also seemed like too intimate of a word to describe the relationship the two of you shared.  It wasn’t about passion.  Even friends with benefits seemed like a misnomer.  You weren’t really friends.  He was friendly enough, of course, but you wouldn’t call this friendship by any means.  An arrangement was really the best way to describe it.

You had an arrangement with Poe Dameron.  That arrangement meant that you frequently found yourself in his bed, underneath him.  Occasionally he was underneath you, but it was always in his bed.

“I know it’s a weird request.  I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need this.”  The desperation glittered in his eyes as he spoke.  The great Poe Dameron, the pilot, the leader, the hero – he was so lost.

“It’s not that weird.  Everyone’s got their thing,” you told him with a grin.  It felt like a lie, though.  In all the time you had spent rolling around in the sheets with Poe, he had never had a _thing_.  He just _was._   He was energy and power and enthusiasm and selfless ecstasy.  But it had always just been sex – pure, carnal sex.  There had never been anything deeper to fulfill.

“Yeah, but I never thought this would be _my_ thing.  It feels kind of gross, ya know?” he admitted. 

“It’s really not.”

“Maybe not, but the whole idea behind it is,” he said with a sigh, holding his head in his hands.  “I know I have a problem.  I didn’t before, but I know now.  Maybe this is how I can deal with it.  I think it’s healthier this way.  It’s better than the shit I pulled on that cruiser.”

You were on edge.  There was never talking involved in this.  The words exchanged in one of your rendezvouses were generally limited to things like _harder, yes, fuck,_ and _don’t you dare stop_.  This was too much.

“It’s fine.  I can do it,” you said, eager for the talking to be over.  Too many words complicated things.  When too many words were spoken, it stopped being an arrangement and became something else.  Whatever this was, it couldn’t become anything else.

“Thanks.”  Poe sounded so relieved.  You were starting to realize how much he needed this. 

“So…” you stood awkwardly in front of the bed, where he was seated at the end of the mattress.  What came next?  This just proved your theory that talking was bad.  Usually, you just showed up and took your clothes off.

He pulled his shirt off and grabbed one of your hands, pulling you towards him.  He stood up and relieved you of your jacket.  Back and forth, piece by piece, it all came off.  His actions were slower than usual, you noticed.  Typically there was a flurry of hands and wet, open-mouthed kisses as he stripped your clothing off.  Something was wrong.

“Tell me what you want me to do again?” you asked breathlessly as he climbed on top of you. 

“I want you to… Fuck, it sounds so shitty when I say it out loud.  I want you to tell me I’m good.  Tell me that you think I’m a hero.  Please, I need this.  I’m sorry, but I do.” 

He seemed so ashamed to even be asking, and you hated that.  He shouldn’t have to be embarrassed.

“I can do that,” you assured him.

“Thank you.”

He did enough to get you ready to take him, but nothing more.  You understood.  This was usually an equal exchange, but you accepted that this time, it wasn’t about you.  Besides, you knew you wouldn’t be left wanting and that he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want him to do.  Poe didn’t operate that way. 

“Hmm,” you hummed with satisfaction as he slid into you.  He always took a second afterwards to pause, to just stay still.  He seemed to understand that you derived a great deal of pleasure from that first moment.  Then, that calm stillness was broken by something even better.

Poe was enthusiastic and skilled when it came to sex.  He knew what to do to make you writhe with ecstasy, and he had the stamina to make it happen.  This time, though, something was different.  That need he kept mentioning was evident.  Poe _needed_ this with a passion that was showing through with every thrust, with every motion.

“Mm, that feels so good,” you moaned.  It felt hollow to say, like you were just playing a part.  No matter how good it did feel, saying it like that felt… off, somehow.  “Fuck, you’re so good at this!”

“No,” he said, exasperated, stopping all movement.  “I don’t want you to tell me I’m doing a good job.  I want you to tell me that _I’m_ good.”

“Oh, okay.” You weren’t sure that you really saw the difference between those two things, but you promised to try your best.

With your reassurance, he began to move inside of you again.  You tangled a hand up in his messy curls and groaned as he thrusted into the exact right spot.  It wasn’t by accident.  Poe Dameron knew exactly what he was doing in bed.

“Mm, Poe,” you moaned into his ear, “you’re so brave.”

You could tell from the way his jaw twitched that you had chosen the right thing to say.

“You’re so dedicated, so loyal to the Resistance,” you tried again.  His eyelids fluttered.  Your words were doing something for him that mere actions couldn’t.  “You’re the best pilot in the whole fleet.”

He was getting there.  You could tell.  Poe always sped up when he was nearing the end.  No matter how quickly he was moving before, he always sped up.  He couldn’t help it; it was just reflex.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.  If he was nearing the threshold, you were teetering on the edge.  Just a few more… Yes, yes, just like that.

“Poe!” you cried in rapture.

He was still hanging on.  Somehow, he wasn’t there yet.  You knew what you needed to say, what he needed to hear.

“Poe,” you whispered in his ear, “ _you’re a hero_.”

That was all it took.  With a violent convulsion that left him trembling, he fell apart.  It took you a moment to realize that he had started crying.  You tried to mask your disgust, but to no avail.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he said with a shaky voice.  “I know that this is really pathetic, and that this isn’t what you signed up for with this whole thing.  I’m sorry for putting this on you, but I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”  He was silent for a moment, then, “Thanks.”

As you stood up and pulled your clothes back on you stared at him.  This wasn’t the Poe Dameron you knew, but maybe this was a realer, truer version.  It wasn’t enough for him to be a hero once.   He had to seek out danger, to put his life on the line.  It was all about grand gestures and dangerous plans. 

Poe Dameron needed to be a hero, and more than that, he needed someone to tell him he was one.


End file.
